


Soft Crack Stage

by thecountessolivia



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Candy Canes, Complete, Established Relationship, M/M, Some banter and fluff, The shared enjoyment of unusual sex toys, christmas gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 08:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17200349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecountessolivia/pseuds/thecountessolivia
Summary: Hannibal gives Will an unusual confection for Christmas.Things escalate from there.(Inspired by some tweets by @lecterisms)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lecterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecterisms/gifts).



> I know I said I wouldn't write any more Hannibal fic, but this sat in my WIP folder before I'd decided to call it quits. 
> 
> Assume this takes place in a happier version of S1, where Will and Hannibal have already stumbled into a relationship.

Someone had left a bowl of candy canes and peppermint bark on the break room table, having festooned it first with golden tinsel. A post-it note stuck to the tinsel read: "Help yourself!”

Will snagged a cane from the bowl and began to strip it of its crinkly plastic wrapping under the lead weight of Hannibal's stare.

"Is this how you intend to dissolve the memory of our lunch at Le Cigne Farci?" Hannibal asked.

Will stuck the cane's hook firmly in his mouth and gave it a hard, slurping suck. "I don't want my students to smell on me the four kinds of French cheese you insisted we have for dessert," he said, then nodded to the bowl, grinning around his mouthful. "You should have one too, before you kiss me goodbye. Pretty sure I can still smell that goat cheese on you."

"Tomme de chèvre."

"Yeah, that one."

For a moment, Hannibal watched Will work on the minty cane, eyes just barely narrowed. He approached the bowl as one might a crime scene, and leaned over to examine its contents.

“Are these a favorite of yours?” he said, using two fingertips to daintily draw out another cane from the pile, as if he were playing a game of pick up sticks.

"I like them okay. When I was little, teachers used to give them out around the holidays. Free candy's always good."

"A sentimental favorite then. A reminder of Christmas, and the kindness adults were capable of."

Will rolled his eyes. “Maybe? Or maybe it's just an uncomplicated pleasure. Ever hear of those, Hannibal? Not everything has to be an extraordinary four course meal."

"True," Hannibal murmured, sliding the cane into the pocket of his coat. "But making ordinary things extraordinary can bring about its own set of pleasures."

Will pulled the cane from his mouth and frowned. Hannibal's expression had become about as readable as the surface of an alien planet. Will wondered what had started to bubble underneath, and worried.

\---

The lid on the presentation box slid off, and the object within refracted light from the candles, gleaming crimson and gold against the moss green velvet interior.

Will forgot to breathe and leaned back too quickly in his chair. Hannibal's dining room seemed to grow warmer. The only sounds were the festive choral music playing somewhere in the background and the crinkling of wrapping paper being balled between Will's increasingly damp palms.

"There's probably no point in asking but: did you make this yourself?" Will asked hoarsely.

"I had the mold made especially, but the rest is my own work, yes." Hannibal leaned across the table, eyes bright and expectant. "I have you to thank for encouraging this experiment in candy making. I’ve come to see it as an under-appreciated art. So many varied and pleasing results to be gleaned from exposing a simple sugar solution to the right amount of heat. This particular result is almost gem-like, wouldn't you agree?"

Will licked his lips and nodded. He still couldn't give voice to the words that sat on the tip of his tongue.

The object inside the box was indeed gem-like and shaped, undeniably, like a very large and very thick candy cane. In Hannibal's rendition of the traditional stripes, broken ribbons of crimson swirled up the cane's semi-translucent leg, like koi swimming up a stream. Flakes of edible gold submerged in the hardened sugar glinted like stars along the whole length. And the hook — the hook was where it ought to be, but its bend tapered off too early, into a fat and bulbous tip.

Any outsider would see this gift for what it obviously was: an unusual and oversized Christmas confection. But there were no outsiders here — only the two of them. And nothing between Hannibal and Will was ever obvious or, if Will was honest, ordinary. Hannibal's gift sat between them, its length and girth full of obscene possibility that belonged to them alone.

Will didn't need to say what the gem-like sugar cane could be used for. The unspoken knowledge sat between them, ready to be acted on. Excitement fizzed low in Will's belly and spilled down further to warm him.

"I didn't think— I know it's Christmas, but I didn't get you anything," he said finally. His fingers jerked towards the box and stroked the swirl of red stripes. The whole length of the cane was perfectly smooth, like glass.

"There is no obligation, Will." Hannibal's voice had dropped to the low, mellifluous register to which Will knew himself to be vulnerable. "This treat is yours to do with as you please."

Did Hannibal mean that? Maybe. Will could see him being perfectly satisfied with the mere thought of Will taking the phallic candy home and doing filthy things with it and to it. Will thought he could do one better.

"There is something I can do in return."

"Yes?"

Will met Hannibal's eyes across the table, and coiled his fingers about the cane to lift it for examination. It was surprisingly heavy, and warmed quickly to his touch.

"I can share this," he said. "With you."

He watched Hannibal swallow. The light in his eyes glinted like the gold specks suspended in the cane's sugar crystals.

"I would like that."

"Now?"

"If you like, then yes. Now."

"Shower first. Then I want us to try it. Together."


	2. Chapter 2

The music stopped, the house fell silent. They went up together through the hush, shoulder to shoulder, taking turns to carry Will's gift.

Upstairs, witnessed by the gilded frame mirror overlooking Hannibal's bed, they stripped each other bare. They didn't speak as they walked into the bathroom.

They kissed and kissed under the shower's warm jets, and reached back with soapy hands to open each other up. Their cocks swelled and stiffened in the steam, brushing and bumping between their bodies. Will wasn't sure what got them there faster: the sodden kisses, the slick pleasure of a mutual finger fuck, or the promise of what was waiting for them in the bedroom.

Afterwards, Hannibal dried them both. "I'd like to prepare us further," he said softly against Will's mouth, between stolen kisses. The bottle he reached for was sweet almond oil. "This will work well enough, and won't spoil the taste."

Will swallowed hard and nodded. He let himself be manoeuvred up to the sink and bent gently over. Hands gripping the cool marble counter, he watched in the mirror as Hannibal leaned in to press kisses along his nape and shoulders. Oil-wet caresses parted Will’s cheeks and circled his hole, and then those long, expert fingers breached him and slid inside. Will's mouth fell open. He groaned and pushed back to get his fill, knees threatening to turn liquid. Hannibal's touch was softening him up, tenderising him for what was to come. Will felt on edge already, and they'd barely even started.

"It'll hurt, won't it?" he said shakily. "The menthol in the sugar—"

Hannibal bit lightly at the ball of Will's shoulder and pushed in deeper, fingers peeling apart and curving inside."You may expect some discomfort along with the pleasure," he murmured against Will's skin. His hand withdrew, and he shifted to lift one thigh up onto the counter, eyes on Will's in the mirror while he reached back and stretched himself slowly, just as he had done Will. "Does it help to know that I will feel all that you feel, when my turn comes?"

Will couldn't stop staring. "Yeah. Yes, it does."

In the bedroom, they knelt face to face on the sheets, gazes tethered tight. Will felt blindly for the box. The sugar stick was cold and smooth and heavy in his hand, a polished crystal — a gem.

"Together," he whispered. Hannibal nodded once, solemnly.

They leaned in to share the first taste. The sugar warmed quickly under their tongues, and flooded Will's mouth. Down it went into his throat, cooling and complex and utterly, sweetly delicious.

"What is it, it's— wow," he gasped. "This isn’t just peppermint."

"Lime blossom, pink pepper and lavender," Hannibal said between lashing of his tongue and lopsided kisses that chased the sweetness from Will's lips. "The syrup is ordinary sugar mixed with eucalyptus honey. I hope the taste is worthy of you.”

Will pulled away to sit back on his heels and took the sugar cane with him. "You'll find out soon enough," he said, and stretched his lips about the cane's thick stubby hook. Cheeks hollowed out, he started to suck.

Through his lashes, he watched Hannibal watch him. The naked hunger in Hannibal's eyes spurred him on. He sucked harder, sloppy and slurping until warm syrup and spit began to seep from the corners of his lips, and Hannibal's bright stare darkened.

Hannibal turned him towards the mirror. "Look at yourself," he hissed into Will's ear. "Look".

Will looked. The cane’s crimson stripes had started to dissolve under the hard suction of his mouth. Thick syrupy streams of red ran down his chin. In the dim azure and teal blue light of Hannibal’s bedroom, Will looked like something bloodied and debauched, borderline monstrous. And all he had done was suck on a sweet. Hannibal descended on him, and lapped at the sticky vermillion spill.

Mouths locked, they tumbled onto the sheets and the next glimpse Will had of himself was on his back, legs lifted and splayed, obscene and gynaecological all at once. Was he being arranged or had he arranged himself? It didn't matter. The reflection of himself, and of Hannibal crawling towards him like something feral, only got him harder. His cock was a hot, heavy weight against his belly, leaking and aching for friction. He watched Hannibal kneel between his legs, and give the cane's hook a long, languorous suck before lining it up against Will's oil-slicked hole.

"Tell me how it feels," he said. And started to push.

The confection exhaled its icy breath against delicate skin, and Will's whole body flinched. He gasped, hissed and pinched his eyes shut.

"Breathe, Will," Hannibal told him.

Will did — or he tried. He breathed in short puffs through the cold burn and the growing stretch. He wanted this, after all — he'd had asked for it. He felt the grip of Hannibal's fingers around his thigh, sugar-sticky and bruising-firm. The deluge of shocking sensation, pressing ever inward, was relentless.

"Should have—" Will gasped again as the smooth round tip of the cane found and brushed his prostate— "Should have done this on your dining table. Fuck, that feels good. More."

Hannibal breathed a small laugh and twisted his wrist upwards to give Will his fill. "A place far better suited to the gustatory nature of the endeavour. Would you have enjoyed being my dessert, Will? A pretty, sugar-pricked treat plated for my delight?"

Will didn't want to admit it. In the mirror, he did look like something ready to be devoured. He watched his body writhe and jerk helplessly on the bed while Hannibal drove in and out of him in a slow, merciless rhythm. Will felt as if he were being fucked by cold fire. He disowned the noises he was making — he refused to believe that the high pleas and clipped grunted demands for more of the mentholated syrupy dildo could issue from his own throat.

He still hadn't touched himself. He felt as if an orgasm would ambush and dissolve him whole, just as his body was slowly dissolving the sugary stick Hannibal was fucking him with.

"I'm afraid I can't indulge you for much longer," Hannibal said. "The heat of your body is taking its toll."

"Won't be enough to go around," Will rasped.

Hannibal brought down to him a filthy, open-mouthed kiss. "Precisely."

Will laughed shakily into the kiss. He was still full, brimming with Hannibal's creation, but syrup was already oozing down his cheeks and thighs, sticking him to the sheets.

"Get down then," he said. "Spread your legs. I want to see how well you take it."

It happened so quickly: a twist of their bodies and then Will was above, arranged with his ass above Hannibal's face. The cane's shaft was thrust into his hand, sticky and slick with oil and melting fast.

He barely had a chance to get his bearing before strong hands were gripping him by the hips and pulling him down. No teasing, no degustation: only the wet living spear of Hannibal's tongue darting out and lodging itself greedily in Will’s sugar-soaked hole.

Will might have sworn, or shouted. His head spun and his vision blurred. He forgot his aim. He had no control. His knees skidded on fine sheets and his hips moved of their own volition, dragging his cock through the rough hair on Hannibal's chest, grinding down onto a lashing tongue that chased after every last drop of scented sugar from his hole, cheeks, and thighs.

Without finesse or grace, he slumped against Hannibal's torso. He gave the wet sticky cane one final suck, coating his mouth, and then Hannibal's cock was in his mouth and Will was taking his aim.

Will heard his own muffled moan above Hannibal's cry: the sugary toy slid so smoothly into Hannibal's body. When his eyes caught their melded shapes in the mirror, Will couldn't peel them away. He sucked hard, pushed the cane in, and shoved himself back onto Hannibal's tongue.

His senses began to fizz and blur — Will let them. He rode faster, thrust in deeper, and then salt and brine were flooding the sweetness in his mouth, his body and cock were spasming, and he was coming in shuddering spurts against Hannibal's skin.

For a moment, the hard edges of the world melted into pure pleasure. And then they were groping for each other, and twisting again, and clasping at each other's spent bodies until they tangled together, all sticky limbs and pounding hearts and hot, broken breaths.

\---  
  
They lay close afterwards, face to face again, strangely alert.

All that remained of Will's gift was an opaque shard of sugar, its stripes stripped off and its ends smoothed out to dull stumps. It sat between them, strangely alien and out of place now, but still catching in the low light.

"Your sheets will never forgive us," Will said. "That red dye is everywhere. Doubt it's coming out."

Hannibal's eyes flickered with a smile. His fingers smoothed through Will's hair. "I consider it a worthwhile sacrifice, even for such a fleeting pleasure."

Will touched the cane's spent remains. An odd sort of glumness had settled over him. "Too fleeting," he muttered.

"Brevity doesn't equate with meaningless."

"I wasn't suggesting that. It's just that— you made something beautiful for me, and we've literally fucked it into oblivion."

That got Will another smile.

"And how does it feel to destroy something with me, Will?"

Will paused. He watched Hannibal's eyes gleam in the dark, still bright, almost red.

The answer sat on his tongue like a mouthful of honey: burning and sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three things:  
> \- I wanted to write this in such a way as to make the reader forget that this is two adult men fucking each other with a giant stick of candy.  
> \- The shower scene: I just never see any... bum hygiene stuff in fic, and I just think it doesn't have to be entirely avoided and doesn't have to be gross.  
> \- I know I don't need to say this, but: don't put candy up your butt.


End file.
